


Me vs. You

by Jael



Series: Rebuilding Bridges [3]
Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Angry Kissing, Angry Sex, Arguing, Catharsis, Confessions, F/M, Identity Issues, Leonard Snart Lives, Light Angst, Pre-Relationship, Rough Kissing, Shameless Smut, Smut, smut with feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-09
Updated: 2018-10-09
Packaged: 2019-07-28 20:10:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16248983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jael/pseuds/Jael
Summary: Leonard is back from the timestream--but he and Sara just can't seem to stop butting heads. But when all their baggage comes to a head, they're going to have to find a way to work past it, or lose any hope of being friends and teammates--or more--ever again.(And maybe, that way will include kissing. Lots and lots of kissing.)





	Me vs. You

**Author's Note:**

> I know, I didn't post the next chapter of "Captain Cold and Me" on time, and that's partly because another idea screamed at me to write it (and wouldn't stop sending me snippets of dialogue until I did). And here it is.
> 
> Tagged for content, but further notice here that this story involves angry sex that's just a little rough (but thoroughly consensual). It's also post AvaLance breakup.
> 
> This is a one-shot, but I suppose a prequel or sequel isn't completely out of the question. I have others things to finish first!  
> Many thanks to LarielRomeniel for the beta.

“What the _fuck_ , Snart?”

She’d tried, Sara had, tried _so_ hard. Since they’d pulled Leonard out of the timestream about a month ago, a thoroughly unexpected and precious (she’d thought at the time) gift, she’d tried. Tried to make him welcome back on the team, to give him space because of his obvious disorientation. Things were pretty different, after all. He’d need time before they could…before they might be able to go back to their old dynamic, their friendship.

More than friendship? She didn’t let herself think about that. Not yet. Not only was she still smarting from her breakup with Ava (she bore the other woman no ill will, really she didn’t, they just…wanted different things), it’d been three years since the Oculus explosion. There would be adjustments. They could get there…in time.

Or not.

It had quickly become apparent that no matter what Leonard had thought or wanted before, things were different now. It was less, Sara thinks, “me and you”--and more “me vs. you.”

“That was sloppy, Canary,” the man in question drawls, ambling along behind her with the rest of the team, hands stuffed into his jacket pockets. “Relying on magic to save the day instead of good ol’ fashioned planning? Sloppy.” He nods to the other man who’s strolling along between him and Mick. “No offense.”

“None taken, mate.” Constantine pulls a cigarette out his pocket and considers it woefully. He has an ongoing “disagreement” with Gideon over the things. “And Sara, luv? He’s right. Not that I’m not happy to save the day and all that, but I’m not always gonna be here to do it. I did warn you that these things were resistant to any sort of physical harm, and that I thought some of your weaponry might backfire.”

“Trolls,” Ray points out, although he sounds more subdued than usual. “Rock trolls.” He looks around, obviously trying to lighten the mood. “Right? Isn’t that what they looked like?”

Zari pats his arm. “Right, Ray.” She eyes the others. “Well, we’re all OK, right? Anyone need the medbay?”

There’s a quiet chorus of demurrals. Sara closes her eyes, taking a steadying breath. OK, so she’d figured that John had been over-reacting to the risk of their weapons…and she’d misunderstood the nature of that concern, as well. She’d believed that some things simply might not work as well--instead of the possibility that the creatures in question, resistant to being rounded up to be sent back to their home dimension, might be able to absorb and use the power of those weapons against them. (Fortunately, Nate and Charlie, who’d caught the brunt of that mistake, were fine, Nate being steel at the time and Charlie being not quite human.)

Still, she rounds on Leonard as they stop on the bridge, pointing at the crook and strangling her desire to wipe that goddamned smirk of his goddamned face. “Well, you did _not_ need to start questioning me…or go against my orders…in the middle of the goddamned fight.” Part of the problem had been when part of the team had listened to her revised battle plan and part—Mick, Leonard and Charlie—had done their own thing.

“She’s right, too,” Constantine points out cheerfully, gesturing at Leonard with his cigarette. “Poor form, mate. At least in the middle of things.”

“Not helping, John!” Sara spits back at him, while Snart mutters something that’s somewhat more profane.

“So…what?” the crook drawls then, leaning back against one of the jump seats and regarding Sara with those cold blue eyes. “I shoulda just played good lil’ soldier?” He waves between Mick and himself (although Mick actually takes a step away as if distancing himself from the sentiment). “I know how our guns work better than anyone else. I knew how to adapt their powers. And you were ignoring me out there.” Those damned eyes are narrowed and far too sharp. “Not trusting your people and their know-how? That’s not like you, Canary.”

Once she’d have given nearly anything to hear that drawl, from him, again. Now, she’d give almost anything to shut him the fuck up.

“How the fuck do you know what’s like me?” Sara rounds on him, anger sparking again. “And who says you’re one of my ‘people’? You’re sure as hell not acting like it!”

He doesn’t flinch at the words, which had come out far harsher than she’d really intended, but he does freeze, staring at her. But that genie is out of its bottle now, and it isn’t going back.

“Aaaaaand I think that’s our cue to get the bloody hell outta here,” Constantine claps his hands together, breaking the tableau. “Anyone got some whiskey?

Mick, of all people, slaps John on the back so hard the warlock has to take a step forward and give himself a shake, resettling his trench coat. “C’mon, British. We still haven’t emptied Rip’s old stash. Think he’d be happy to leave some of it to a fellow Brit.”

“Lead on, Mr. Rory.” John eyes him as they headed toward the galley. “And, oh, can I get a light?”

“I _heard_ that.”

“I meant you to, luv.”

The rest of the team follows them, even Ray, who looks like he might like to try playing mediator—at least, before Nate and Zari firmly take him by both arms and steer him away.

Sara watches them go, too tired to even try to stop them. They’ll do a full mission postmortem later, she decides wearily, turning toward Rip’s…her office. No one’s up for it now.

She ignores Leonard. He’ll probably go sulk in his room or hide somewhere else on the ship, like the cargo bay that used to be “theirs.” Sara closes her eyes against the thought. It isn’t, and maybe it never really had been.

But, no. He has to follow her, right through the doorway she wishes she could shut in his face. But he doesn’t speak, and so Sara decides to take a moment to calm down a little more before she tosses his ass back out, maybe literally. (The thought is cheering.) She stalks over to the cabinet where she keeps a bottle or two, dumping a small amount of scotch into a glass and raising it to her lips. She can sense Leonard still behind her, can feel his eyes on her, wonders what he’s going to say to piss her off next.

“I _used_ to know what was like you.” He sounds subdued, which is…different.

“Did you? Are you sure?” Sara restrains herself from lashing out again, studying her drink instead. “Maybe you never did.” But the words, meant to hurt him, sting her too, and she suddenly wishes she could take them back, that she’d taken the high road, hadn’t showed just how much he’s getting to her.

A pause.

Then: “Sara, don’t do it,” Leonard quotes softly, behind her. “That’s not you anymore.”

As a reminder that, once, he had known her so well, better than anyone else on this ship—better than many people off it—it’s a good one. Sara closes her eyes, feeling again that ripple of pain that comes so often when she thinks of how it used to be, how Leonard Snart, of all people, had been friend and sparring partner and, just maybe, something more in waiting. But those days are gone.

“It’s been a long time, Leonard,” she tells him coolly, turning to study him. “You don’t need to throw Russia in my face anymore.”

Leonard, for once, isn’t leaning against anything. He’s standing in the middle of the office, just watching her. There’s no emotion at all in those eyes or on his face—but there’s nothing snarky or sardonic, either. Just a blank slate, something still and waiting.

“That…wasn’t my intention,” he says after a moment.

“It wasn’t? Then why did you do it?” For some reason, the very lack of pushback makes Sara angry again. She wants a fight, she realizes. And that’s probably a bad thing. But she’s not really in a mood to make good decisions right now.

It’s just a matter of what bad decisions she’ll make.

A spark of irritation on Leonard’s face, now. That pleases Sara. Yes, he needs to be as pissed off and irritated as she is. She takes a step closer.

“Maybe because I _did_ know you once,” he fires back. “Back before you changed so damned much.”

Sara’s eyes narrow. “Who says I didn’t change for the better?” She takes another step. “I’m the captain of the goddamned ship now. I have to be responsible! I can’t….can’t go around taking potshots at authority and stealing shit and getting in bar fights…” God, she misses the bar fights _so_ much. “…and ignoring all the rules.”

“And have you ever considered you’re a helluva better captain than Rip because you do ignore the rules that don’t make sense?” Leonard takes a step too, toward her. “Because you told those Time Bastards…”

“…Time Bureau…”

“Same difference. Because you told them, tell them, when all their crap won’t work, or when the damned bureaucracy will only make things worse?” Another step. “So why, when I…am who I am…do you suddenly want to go all rule-abiding?”

“Because you’re doing it against me, not _with_ me!” Sara can’t quite believe she’d said that out loud, but since they’ve reached confession time, what the hell. She looks away again, waits for him to respond, but when he doesn’t, she shakes her head and closes her eyes.

“Isn’t that my role here?” Leonard, when he does speak, sounds almost bitter. “The smart-aleck pain in the captain’s ass? What _else_ am I?”

Sara opens her eyes and turns.

He’s standing right there. Right _there_ , right in her space, challenging her, pushing her (though not physically, never physically). Like he always has. And she’s still angry, at him and at herself, still a little bitter for everything she’s lost, and everyone. She wants to scream at him, and she doesn’t, and she…

She kisses him, instead.

Sara reaches up and puts her hands on that goddamned infuriating crook’s shoulders and kisses him _hard_ , teeth sinking into his bottom lip, hands shoving him back against the desk, her own body crashing into his as he puts out his own hands to steady himself, bracing himself against the desk.

For a stunned second, he doesn’t kiss her back, and Sara, deciding perhaps too hastily that she has her answer to the question of his interest, starts to step back—but then his lips open under hers, and his hands come up to grip her hips, pulling her to him even harder, so that she’s essentially sprawled against his body as they lean back onto the desk. And hell, _yeah_ , he’s interested, and the kiss is rough and possessive in the best way, and they’re both still angry at each other but they devour each other anyway, using teeth and lips to claim and taste and nip and mark.

Eventually, though, breathing becomes a necessity, and Sara breaks the kiss with a stifled groan, even as Leonard makes a strangled noise as well. He’s looking down at her with eyes that are mostly pupil, and they stare at each other a long, stunned moment. Leonard’s mouth is a little swollen, Sara realizes, and hers probably is as well. She licks her lips. Make that definitely.

And then, without words, without more communication than a furious shared glance, they dive back in for round two.

One of Leonard’s hands slips down to her ass, and she uses that as further reason to shove his legs apart with a knee and step between them, those tight jeans of his completely and utterly failing to hide his bodily response to this development. She uses her teeth again and tastes blood, but the growl he emits seems more to do with desire than pain or anger, so she doesn’t stop, putting her hands on either side of his face and holding him there as her tongue moves against his and Leonard’s other hand moves to join the first, boosting her against him. Sara moans despite herself, rocking, and Leonard curses, but neither of them stops, or wants to.

This is probably unhealthy as hell, actually, for all it’s so very mutual, Sara thinks distantly, through the haze of desire and lingering rage. She’s pissed at him, she’s so goddamned _mad_ at him, for dying before they could become more, for not being what she’d thought she needed when he came back.

And she wants him so goddamned much it’s burning her up inside.

She’s not precisely sure how long they make out against the desk, but eventually Leonard’s jacket and sweater are somewhere across the room, Sara’s shirt is rucked up nearly to her neck, and her bra is somehow draped across the helmet on one of the shelves. She curses again, jerking her hips as Leonard’s teeth scrape gently (mostly) across a nipple, listening to the moan that motion draws from him, and removing one of her hands from under his remaining T-shirt to tuck a finger under his chin and lift his head until that they can look each other in the eye.

She doesn’t want to stop. But she needs to know, clearly, that he doesn’t want to stop either.

If Sara’s any judge at all, the desire in Leonard’s eyes is as intense as it’s been throughout this whole…whatever it is. She meets that intent, hungry blue gaze with her own, letting the nails of her other hand scratch against his lower spine, knowing she’s marking him, knowing from the low noises that he’s been making that it’s a bit of a turn-on.

“More?” she breathes at him, loathe to talk. They can hash…everything…out later. Or not.

Leonard regards her, and she knows that they don’t need more words for him to get the question she’s asking. Then he dips his head to kiss her again, breathing a “yes” against her lips, pressing a hand against her back and jerking his hips up into her as a sort of revenge (she decides) for her own action moments before.

Oh, he’s going to pay for that.

Sara pulls away, breathing hard, and strips her shirt off over her head even as she scans the room, dropping it to the floor. She wants the upper hand here, and she isn’t afraid to admit it or take it. Which means…she notes the sofa in a corner, the desk chair, the desk itself, then glances back at Leonard, who’s still leaning against the desk and looking like he thinks he might possibly be imagining things.

She saunters back over, and he watches her like, she thinks, a mouse watches a hawk. Or…no. Perhaps, like a male black widow spider watches a female. Desire, mostly and just a touch of trepidation.

But still, he reaches for her as she gets closer, although he pauses as she moves her hands down, curling her fingers around the hem of his shirt and starting to tug it up.

She knows, or at least suspects, about his scars. She might be ready to make him pay for various things, but not, honestly, in a way that he doesn’t want.

“OK?” she says quietly, pausing with only a few inches of skin showing.

Leonard responds by putting his hands over hers and moving them and the shirt up, along his stomach, along his chest. She pulls them away only as he finally pulls the shirt over his head and off, dropping it on the floor with her own shirt. Sara reaches for him again, immediately, stepping between his legs again and tilting her head back to bite his collarbone firmly, though not hard enough to mark (more than temporarily, anyway, the red half-moons her teeth leave fading quickly as she brushes her lips against them after).

Leonard places his hands on her hips again, possessively, pulling her tightly against him, but Sara pulls back after only a moment or two, lowering her hands to the front of his pants, those tight black jeans that show off his ass so _damned_ well. She meets his gaze as she pauses at the snap, watching him take a ragged breath and give her a nod as leans back against the desk a little more and braces himself with his hands. Something about the posture is _ridiculously_ alluring, and Sara growls despite herself, suddenly filled with the desire to make him pay for…for something; she’ll figure it out later.

So, she drops to her knees, there in front of him, smirking up at him at the noise he makes…and she uses her teeth to undo the snap of his jeans.

The noise that emits from him, then, is quite satisfying, a gasp and a groan full of so much desire that the very sound has Sara wanting to move things forward, _now_. But she doesn’t, not quite. She works his zipper down, slowly—also using her teeth, even as she smirks at the quiet cursing that’s coming from above her—then eases those tight jeans down over his ass just as slowly, getting in a good feel as she does so, letting her breath warm the front of his briefs, enjoying the… rather impressive view.

“Sara,” Leonard mutters finally, above her, breath uneven and hands moving over to rest in her hair.

This is really quite fun. But she hasn’t forgotten that she’s angry at him. “What, _Snart_?”

“ _Please_.”

OK, then. She is not without mercy, Sara decides with what she thinks is a great degree of benevolence. She rises to her feet, then, letting his hands fall aside, thoroughly enjoying the sight of Leonard, in briefs alone, leaning back against her desk with his eyes closed.

As they open again, she lets her own hands drift to the snap of her pants, undoing it slowly, watching with a smirk as his gaze sharpens avidly. And suddenly, then, Sara’s tired of drawing this out, tired of torturing him just because she can. She strips off her pants and underwear in one swift motion, kicking them aside, and advances on him with enough purpose to make his eyes widen in slight startlement even as he reaches for her at the same time.

They crash back together again, mouths colliding, teeth clashing together, and Sara sets her hands at Leonard’s hips and spins them both around, moving them back toward the desk chair. Leonard, who can’t possibly miss where she’s going with this, mutters something against her mouth, reaching down to shove his briefs down and kick them off too, and his heat against her makes Sara even more wild for him inside her than before.

She pushes him down into the chair, where he leans back, groaning, as she straddles him. But she can’t resist just a little more torture, of a kind, and doesn’t take him inside her immediately. Instead, she rocks against him, sighing as he rubs against her in a nearly perfect way, as pleasure and the start of release stir and rise within.

Leonard, though, doesn’t seem to mind her intended torment, bucking his hips against her just _so_ , and Sara lets out an uncontrolled little sob at the feeling, realizing to her annoyance that she’s about to lose control of the situation, at least more than she’d like. So, she steadies herself, eyes him (those blue eyes dark with desire, a hint of a flush, his own teeth worrying his bottom lip) and then sinks down onto him, taking him inside her with a sigh and a gasp.

His hands move to her hips, anchoring her there as they both pause for a few seconds, just breathing. Sara closes her eyes, trying to just live in the moment for once, then opens them to look into Leonard’s eyes again before starting to move.

He’s looking into her eyes, too, the desire mixed with confusion and the faintest remnants of the anger they’d both been taking out on each other before.

“Sara,” he gasps again, “ _why_?”

Now, he asks that? _Now_? Sara stares at him, crook and hero, her one-time partner in bar fights and cards, her former friend and long-lost _maybe_ , and there are not enough words and too many, all at once.

 _Why_ is she angry? _Why_ did their friendship fade? _Why_ did she pick now to jump him?

Sara shakes her head and, despite her plans to not talk about this, not now, she feels the words starting to bubble up from the knot of pain and grief that’s been lodged deep inside, festering, and she can’t stop them, she can’t, or maybe she just doesn’t want to, after all.

“You _left_ ,” she tells him, still moving, hands tightening on his shoulders, feeling him move his hips up against her, too, not backing away from this complicated, messy, mutual thing they’d doing here together.

“I…” She thinks, perhaps, that he’s not sure what she’s referring to, or maybe it’s just that there’s a low groan that’s pulled out of him then, as she moves just right.

“And you made _me_ leave,” Sara continues, breathlessly, riding him, the pleasure continuing to build warring with the anger that’s still there, too. “You left me no choice at all; I had to get Mick out of there or we’d both die, I had seconds, Snart, and I had to run away and leave you, and I have never stopped having nightmares about leaving my people behind!”

Their eyes are locked, and Leonard’s hands are tight on her hips as they move, and it’s not going to be long, oh, it’s not going to be long at all. Sara hears herself make an abandoned noise, and closes her eyes.

“Didn’t have…much of a choice…here either…” Leonard’s voice is ragged and unstrung, and he’s started adding a little extra move every time he bucks up into her, and holy hell, she’s going over the edge any moment now, and she’s sinking her nails into his shoulders to keep herself upright.

“And then you were _back_ , and I needed…I don’t know…” The words are spilling out of her as inexorably as the way they’re moving together, toward something just as inevitable as this conversation. “I thought _you_ were back and that you’d _have_ my back and you _didn’t_ …and…”

But she’s gone, now, she’s falling and flying both, and Sara hears the sound ripped from her throat as she tightens around him, as her vision goes white and she shudders with release. A bare moment later, she hears a similar noise from Leonard, feels his hands tighten on her hips, holding her steady as he finds his own release, and despite everything, she brings up a hand to rest at the side of his face as they both come down.

 “What just happened?” Leonard asks her quietly after a long few minutes, at a point when they can’t seem to decide whether to look at each other or not.

“Did you lose more brain cells during your stint in the timestream than I already suspected?” Sara snipes at him, struggling with the immensely conflicting feelings of contented afterglow from amazing sex and the knowledge that all their issues are still there waiting for them. But nearly immediately, she regrets it, and sighs, then leans forward and puts her forehead against his shoulder. And after another moment, Leonard puts his arms around her, both of them sweaty and sated and exhausted from catharsis.

They rest for a few minutes before Sara hears Leonard speak again.

“Sara…” he says, voice buzzing against her hair, “tell me again how long it was, for you? For the team?”

There’s no doubting what he means. “Three years,” Sara responds without looking up, “a little more.”

A pause.

“You know, it felt like only a few minutes for me,” he says, finally, something complicated in his tone.

Sara glances up, then. “I _know_ …”

“No. I don’t think that you do.” Leonard’s eyes are determined, but not angry or bitter, not now. “OK, maybe you know the idea of it, but do you really get what it _was_ like?” He takes a deep breath. “You kissed me.”

“I do remember,” Sara points out, but he’s continuing as if just trying to get the words out.

“You kissed me at the Oculus, and you left, and I am _sorry_ for putting you on the spot like that, but I didn’t know what else to do either,” he says, and there is a little bitterness there now. “And then I was delivering one last ‘fuck you’ to the Time Bastards and everything went blue and…”

He’s silent a moment, then shakes his head.

“And then I was on the floor of the Waverider’s airlock, and there were a bunch of faces looking down at me, and I only recognized two of them,” Leonard says quietly, looking down at her. “Not even you—you were on the bridge, being the captain.” He holds up a hand. “You’re a _good_ captain. Not saying otherwise. But…”

It’s the first time she’s really, really considered how instantaneous the transition ahead three years had been for him. “But everything was...different,” Sara finishes for him.

“Yeah.” For the first time, a shadow of Leonard’s old smile, the rare and genuine one Sara remembers so fondly, crosses his face. “I’ll say.”

They look at each other and, for the first time in a while, Sara wonders if maybe, just maybe, this is a bridge that can be rebuilt.

“Let’s…well. Let’s get cleaned up?” she ventures, pulling back a little, getting to her feet with a stretch, feeling the pleasant burn of muscles that hadn’t been stretched in quite that way in quite a while. “And talk. Some more.”

Leonard’s eyes wander over her naked form with appreciation, and he seems a bit less self-conscious than Sara had expected, sprawled in the chair and utterly bare (and quite magnificent, Sara decides, though she’s not telling him that--yet) himself.  “I think maybe we did things a little backward,” he comments drily.

“Speak for yourself,” Sara tosses over her shoulder as she saunters into the bathroom that’s attached to the office—one of the reasons it’s good to be captain. “Personally, I think we did things in precisely the right order.”

His laugh follows her in. And it’s a wonderful sound.

* * *

By the time they’re cleaned up and so is the office, it’s well into night by ship’s time. Sara checks with Gideon to be sure the team is staying out of trouble, finding to her surprise that they are—all of them, even Mick and John. Apparently, someone had declared it movie night on the Waverider and there’s a Star Wars marathon going on in the rec room. While Gideon remarks that _someone_ is going to be cleaning up the popcorn ground into the carpet there, it seems that things are as peaceful as they ever get on the ship.

“I can’t believe we weren’t…that we haven’t been interrupted,” she tells Leonard, sinking down to sit next to him on the sofa.

“You kidding me?” Leonard, sprawling back against the sofa with his ankles crossed in front of him on a footstool, throws her a smirk. “They’re probably taking bets on whether anyone’s bleeding. Or if you’ve shoved me out the airlock yet.”

Sara considers, then acknowledges that with a tip of her head. “Gideon?” she asks. “Are they?”

Gideon is silent just a little too long before answering, at least for Sara’s peace of mind.

“There…may have been a sort of betting pool,” the AI says finally. “On the two of you. Options did include odds on there being bloodshed, and I believe someone did bring up the airlock.” She continues as Leonard snickers and Sara rolls her eyes. “However, the preferred options, for many, included odds on whether you’d kiss, or when. And there were rather outside odds on whether, as Mr. Constantine put it, you’d ‘shag’ and make up.”

“Of course, he did,” Sara mutters, but Leonard merely chuckles again.

“And who won?” he asks.

“I don’t believe I can say that yet, Mr. Snart,” Gideon tells him primly. “I believe the two of you still need to resolve some things.”

Sara sighs at that, glancing at Leonard, who’s eyeing her in return.

“And that’s a little too on the nose,” she says, turning to face him and tucking her legs up under her. “Well. Want to continue your thoughts from before?”

Leonard considers, his eyes intent on her. He seems relaxed in a way he hasn’t since he returned, Sara thinks, and while the sex probably helped, the words he’d finally managed to say probably didn’t hurt either.

“Maybe I can’t figure out what you…what you want me to _be_ , here, now,” he says slowly, as if trying to feel the words out. “Maybe I can’t figure out what I’m supposed to be, and you don’t want…”

He glances away then. “Well. Guess I fell back on what I knew. The role I knew I could play.”

“Smart-aleck pain in the captain’s ass?” Sara asks, remembering. Leonard gives her a half-smile, but there’s a shadow there, too.

“I know you’d met my asshole former self—History Boy made sure to tell me all about that—and Leo, who everyone but Mick seemed to like a lot better than me,” he says, and there’s something painful there, under the words. But before Sara can respond, he takes another breath and soldiers on, eyes suddenly intent on hers again.

“And you…you’d been in love,” he says quietly. “With someone who, you’ll admit, seems like she couldn’t possibly be more different than me.”

Sara’s not sure what to say to that. It’s true. Leonard’s eyes flicker at her silence, and he glances away, but continues.

“And just like that…” he snaps his fingers, “…that sorta put paid to any…hopes…I’d been harboring. But I didn’t want to leave, not yet. Not when I thought you—the team—might still find me useful. I didn’t really want to go back to a life of crime in Central City.”

He shakes his head. “And I didn’t want to abandon Mick again. Although…to be honest, I figured if I made him choose, I might not like the answer. Fitting, I guess.”

Sara waits, but it seems Leonard has said his piece, and the silence stretches out.

It’s her turn, now.

“We mourned you,” she says, staring at her hands. “ _I_ mourned you. After the Oculus. Don’t think that I didn’t.” She glances up at him. “You’re seeing more than three years of…of burying that, and a good deal of moving on, for both Mick and me. That’s something you need to remember.”

The words get a quiet murmur of acknowledgement, and when Sara studies him, she sees understanding there. That’s enough for now.

“And while...old you…and Leo couldn’t be more different, they do have one thing in common. They just aren’t you. Not you _now_ , which is the one that matters. I, at least, know that. So does Mick.” She takes a deep breath.

This is the hardest part.

“I loved Ava,” Sara says, staring at a spot on the desk where she’d once had a framed photo. “In many ways, I still do. And it’s _over_. We both made our choices, and they were…incompatible…with each other’s.” She sighs. “It hurts, but it happens, and it would have been worse to continue on, trying to change each other to something we weren’t.”

She looks at Leonard, who’s watching her in a particularly intent way. “And, yes. She’s different from you in many ways.” She considers. “OK, most ways. But…but that doesn’t mean I can’t care for you. In spite of—and because of—those differences.”

It’s Leonard’s turn, again, to glance away.

“I might be a jerk,” he says in an odd, tight voice, “Sara, but I’m not the kind of asshole who’s just pissy or punishing you because you didn’t…didn’t want me. I’d never…that was never part of…”

He’s jumped to completely the wrong conclusion. Sara reaches out and puts a hand on either side of his face, turning him toward her.

“Leonard,” she says fiercely. “Shut up.”

He shuts up. Sara takes another deep breath.

“Can we rebuild this?” she asks, knowing she sounds a little wistful. “Can we try? In so many ways, you’re right. I need someone to challenge me, to tell me when my plans have holes and when I’m getting ahead of myself.” She eyes him. “ _Not_ to be an asshole and lead a mutiny in the middle of a mission. I _am_ the captain. I’m good at it. And I know a lot about the team that you don’t.”

Leonard blinks at her, but nods immediately, and Sara continues.

“And once we’ve seen if we can rebuild that…the friendship, the camaraderie, the give and take…maybe we can see about ‘me and you,’” she says, meeting his eyes, letting her fingers move down to rest on his shoulders. “You think?”

He’s staring at her like he can’t believe her words, but not in a bad way. Like he’d never thought they’d find their way back here again. Like he’s been handed a second chance that’s beyond worth.

Sara knows how he feels.

After a moment, Leonard bounces back a little, giving her one of those genuine little smiles again and reaching up to thread the fingers of one hand with one of hers.

“ _That_ wasn’t ‘me and you?’” he drawls, glancing over at the desk and the chair. “Because…damn…”

Sara laughs. And, oh, it feels good.

“More ‘me and you,’” she tells him seriously. “Regular ‘me and you.’ All sorts of 'me and you'..."

Leonard smirks, lifting her hand to his lips and kissing it while maintaining eye contact through his lashes, sending a shiver down her spine. There’s a light in his eyes that hasn’t been there since the day they’d pulled him out of the timestream, and it’s so very, very good to see it.

Sara’s pretty sure there’s a matching light in hers.

“Captain,” he says quietly, “I think that we can figure something out…for me. And you.

“And me and you.”


End file.
